


Endlessly

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M, Post-Mission, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook knew he was going to have questions for Archie when he finally returned, but this wasn't how he had imagined Archie would answer them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endlessly

**Author's Note:**

> Story and title inspired by David Cook's beautiful new song, "I'm Gonna Love You," from his new album, "Digital Vein". I highly recommend [listening to it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=du1QGcGz7vs) as you're reading, as it sets the tone and mood of the story.

_March 24, 2014_

* * *

 

It isn’t the way his apartment door is ajar, when he knows for certain that he locked it before he left that morning.

( _There is only one other person who has a key. He kept it, after all.)_

It isn’t the new-yet-not-unfamiliar pair of shoes that is neatly parked next to the doormat, the sight so telling of the considerate habit of its owner.

( _He hasn’t changed, even after all these years.)_

It isn’t even the numerous baggages that greet him upon entering, lined up neatly on one side of the foyer to avoid being stumbled over.

( _He headed straight here from the airport—and what does that mean, then?  Why is this the first place he goes to?_

_The answer is something he doesn’t dare hope for. Not just yet.)_

It is the music emanating from the piano that stops David Cook in his tracks.

_A minor.  G, C, F, in succession._

The chord progression is painfully familiar, and suddenly Cook can’t breathe.

Forcing himself to move, he slowly enters the living room, and _there_ —

“ _Something still comes over me,_ ” David Archuleta sings, his voice wavering as he struggles to get the pitch right. He leans forward to squint at the music sheets propped in front of him, scrawled with Cook’s messy handwriting. “ _Just a chill in the winter breeze,”_ he continues, softer and surer now as he settles on the notes.

Cook knows that _he_ knows he’s there, yet neither of them are willing to acknowledge— _this_.  Cook steps forward, holding his breath, unwilling to disturb the trance that has overcome them both.

 _“Standing in the cold debris,”_ sings that beloved voice he hasn’t heard for so long, and he watches as the beautiful boy by the piano closes his eyes in remembering: “ _We left behind our memory.”_

_A minor.  G, C, F, in succession._

Nimble fingers begin playing the arpeggio of broken chords, and Cook makes his way to the electric guitar leaning against the wall.

_“Every word that left your lips…”_

With shaking hands, Cook plugs the guitar into the amplifier, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he knows he is being watched.

_“Left behind your fingerprints.”_

He slings the strap over his head and makes the final adjustments on the tuning keys, strumming softly to make sure he matches the pitch.

_“Every crime that love commits…”_

He crouches down and fiddles with the knobs on the amplifier, making sure that the volume won’t be too loud that it overpowers the crooning melody of the piano.

_“Brings it right back here to this.”_

A pause—and Cook takes a deep breath as he finally turns to face the boy he loves.

_Still._

_(There was never anyone else.)_

_C, A minor, D minor, F._

The chord progression changes, and his guitar cries in unison with the keening of the piano.

_“I only wanna be remembered for being the one who’d always say…”_

Hazel eyes lock with his, and he is helpless to their pull—he’s drowning in them, all over again.

“ _That I’m gonna love you…”_

Lips that he has kissed a thousand times before, a lifetime ago, shape the words of his own writing:

“ _I’m gonna love you endlessly.”_

And he can’t help but weave his own rough, desperate, temporal voice with that of the angel that has come back to him, against all odds:

“ _I’ve never been one to yell surrender as long as you’re standing next to me, ‘cause I’m gonna love you…”_

He holds on to that never-forgotten gaze as he sings, and he knows that he isn’t the only one falling into this abyss— _willingly_.

_“I’m gonna love you endlessly.”_

_A minor.  G, C, F, in succession._

The chord progression reverts to the verse, and his fingers fly over the fret as he plucks at the strings, feeling like his fingers might bleed from how forcefully he is wringing the instrument.

_(It wouldn’t be the first time.)_

_“No escaping this embrace.”_

He hits the higher notes of the chords as he settles into the backing vocals of the lyrics, knowing that the boy’s melody will steady him, ground him, like he always has—and always will.

_“Every time I see your face.”_

God, when was the last time he saw him?  He looks so different now: tired, world-weary, with a heaviness upon his shoulders that is painful for Cook to see.

His eyes, however…

_“Around a love I can’t erase…”_

Cook has never seen them so… _exposed._ It’s like he’s looking straight into the boy’s heart—his very _soul_.

And it makes him shiver to see himself reflected in them.

_“I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”_

_C, A minor, D minor, F._

There is no percussion here to carry them through.

“ _I only wanna be remembered…”_

No bass line to guide them.

_“For being the one who’d always say…”_

And the resounding music they make together is raw and unhinged—

_“That I’m gonna love you…”_

—but by no means incomplete.

_“I’m gonna love you endlessly.”_

Because even with just the piano and the guitar, for the very first time—

“ _I’ve never been one to yell surrender…”_

The music finally feels… _whole_.

“ _As long as you’re standing next to me…”_

Because this isn’t just a song.  Not anymore.

“ _‘Cause I’m gonna love you…”_

This is their hearts, finally finding their way back…

“ _I’m gonna love you endlessly.”_

… to each other.

_A minor. G, C, F, in succession._

Gently, Cook removes the guitar from his person and settles it back against the wall.  He turns off the amplifier and makes his way around the piano.  He slides onto the seat, just as the final notes fade away.

And he finds himself with an armful of David Archuleta as the boy launches himself at Cook, burying his head into Cook’s chest and clutching at his shirt as he chokes back a cry.

There are still questions burning on the tip of Cook’s tongue… but perhaps the most important ones are already answered.

He wraps his arms around Archie and presses his lips against the younger man’s hair.  “Welcome back,” he murmurs.

And Archie’s arms tighten around him as he finally sighs:

“ _I’m home._ ”


End file.
